Choose Your Own Adventure - Winchester Edition
by Mendai Decovrii
Summary: The title sums it up. There's a ghost in your house, you're pretty sure. Now where did mom hide the sardines? A birthday fic adventure for Drowning in the Flames.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This fic is a birthday present for the wonderful and amazing **_**Drowning in the Flames**_**. It's a Choose Your Own Adventure style fic, in which the Winchesters will eventually play a role – presuming she chooses the right path. Unfortunately, while you all can vote on where you'd like the story to go, and I can pass your votes along, she gets to decide what happens next, because it's her birthday :) I hope you'll enjoy the story anyway.**

**Drowning in the Flames: I say to you what the Knight of the Holy Grail said to Indiana Jones (and the reference is fitting, because you, like Indie, are about to embark on a dangerous journey): "You must choose. But choose wisely. For as the True Grail will bring you life – the False Grail will take it from you." This is a Supernatural fic, which means your death is practically a given "and the laws of physics have no meaning." It will take all your courage and skill to make it out alive. Good luck. **

**Oh, and happy birthday. 3 **

Choose your own adventure: Winchester Edition

There's an orange nightlight plugged into the wall directly opposite your bed. It's been there since you can remember, and sometimes that's a comfort and other nights, not so much. Like tonight, when every other light in the house is switched off, and this, the only light in the house, starts flickering.

This light has _never_ flickered before. It's been in your room since you were _born_,you're pretty sure, maybe even before that, and it's never flickered. Eighteen solid years of you staring at that nightlight every night as you fall asleep, through thick and thin, that nightlight has shone steady. And now, it's flickering.

You know what this means. When you were a kid, your mother used to send you over to your Great Aunt Lita's house so she could have an hour to watchher show. Aunt Lita was kind of weird- scratch that. Definitely weird. Like, crazy cat lady weird, with all sorts of bangle-y jewelry, and weird smells in her couch cushions, and glasses that made her eyes look bug eye big. But she knew things, real things, about the world, and about what was in it. Werewolves, and ghosts, and vampires, and she used to tell you stories for hours about these things, even showed you a few tricks.

(Your parents hadn't realized that this was happening until you came home one day and started pestering Mom about getting _real _silver silverware, so you could protect yourselves when the shapeshifter president sent his army of evil shapeshifters to kill off all the humans so they could rule the world. Once your parents figured out where you had learned all this, you stopped getting to visit Aunt Lita, and had to start sitting through _Days of our Lives._)

_Anyway the point is_: you know what this flickering light means. It means, there's a ghost in your house, on this, the first night caved and finally stopped sleeping with sardines (Aunt Lita had taught you sardines keep away evil) when your mom had threatened to make you eat as many as you were using every night to make a ring of protection around your bed _and _scrub the floor with a toothbrush, and sardines honestly kind of grossed you out so you stopped.

You sit up slowly in your bed, clutching the blankets around you, eyes peeled for any ghostly flickering. You see nothing. You coil your feet beneath you, getting ready to run.

_1… 2… 3… _

BAM! You spring from your bed and fly down the stairs to the kitchen as fast as you can. In the corner of your eye you catch sight of a fluttering white shape, it looks like of like a little girl. You start desperately pulling at the door handle to the pantry, but it's stuck and you can't- you can't- you can't-

There! You throw open the door, and start feeling around in the dark for the tin of sardines you know is in here. Cereal boxes fall to the floor, and chip bags are crinkling. A pickle jar cracks on the tile, and you somehow manage to spill an entire container of salt and it's in between your toes but there's still no sardines until- _yes_! You rip off the lid and spin around to face the ghost, flinging long, smelly fishes of death at the spectral visitor-

"JUST WHAT IN THE NAME OF SANITY ARE YOU DOING?!"

You freeze. The lights are on now and there's no ghost standing before you, instead, there's your father. Wrapped in a bathrobe. With sardines hanging off him and all around his feet on the floor. Looking _very, very, very much not happy. _

Your mount falls open. You glance down at the rapidly growing puddle of pickle juice soaking into the Lucky Charms, and the salt pile getting bigger as salt continues to pour out of the tipped over container, and the incriminating can of sardines in your hand.

"You know what," he says, "I don't even want to know right now. Go to your room. We'll talk about this in the morning."

Your mouth still gaping open, you nod a little, and walk past him up the stairs and back into your room. You hear him do the same behind you.

You climb back into bed, clutching the tin with two remaining sardines close to you. The nightlight is no longer flickering, but you know what you saw. You saw a ghost. In your house. Only question is, what are you going to tell your parents? Your mother tends to frown on your "alternative" beliefs, though she's not really sure what she thinks of "supernaturals," as she calls them. Your father is an entirely different matter: completely rational to a fault. He already thinks you're strange (Read: completely mental), from the whole sardine-ring-around-the-bed thing. You don't want to know what he's going to say if you tell him about the ghost. But if you don't tell him…

"So, do you want to explain to your mother and me just what all that was last night?"

_What will you answer? Will you:_

_Tell him about the flickering light and the ghost and hope that he believes you?_

_Or_

_Keep what you saw to yourself, making up some excuse for your behavior last night and working to solve this problem yourself?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Drowning in the Flames says: I'm very frightened of not meeting the Winchesters. Of dying, I'm not at all scared because I know it'll probably happen either way, but I want to see Dean's beautiful face before I die! Gah! I want to choose the right grail, but I know I only have a 50-50 shot! Hm… I suppose I'll… Keep what I saw to myself, making up some excuse for my behavior last night and working to solve this problem myself…**

**Leave your votes in the reviews! Though, as always, the choice is up to DITF ;)**

Choose Your Own Adventure: Winchester Edition

_You climb back into bed, clutching the tin with two remaining sardines close to you. The nightlight is no longer flickering, but you know what you saw. You saw a ghost. In your house. Only question is, what are you going to tell your parents? Your mother tends to frown on your "alternative" beliefs, though she's not really sure what she thinks of "supernaturals," as she calls them. Your father is an entirely different matter: completely rational to a fault. He already thinks you're strange (Read: completely mental), from the whole sardine-ring-around-the-bed thing. You don't want to know what he's going to say if you tell him about the ghost. But if you don't tell him… _

"_So, do you want to explain to your mother and me just what all that was last night?" _

You blink, still unsure of what you want to say.

"I… I don't know? I guess… I must have been sleep walking or something." You try to look embarrassed, twisting your hands in your lap, hunching your shoulders, and bouncing your glance between your soggy (pickle-juice soggy) cereal and either of your parents. It's a lame story, but it's the first thing you could think of, and considering how they already thing you're weird, you're hoping they'll just accept it as another of your eccentricities.

"Sleep walking?" your mother looks a mixture of amused, annoyed and concerned. You figure that's a good sign, and nod-shrug.

"Must have been one heck of a dream to have you in the pantry stealing sardines again." Dad says skeptically.

"I guess." You shrug again. "I don't really remember much. I went to bed last night, kind of wishing I'd gotten out the sardines, but deciding not to because I know how much that upsets you, Mom. And the next thing I know I'm standing in the pantry covered in pickle juice and salt and Dad's covered in sardines!"

There's a moment of silence. Then Dad says-

"Well you can't have gotten very much good sleep last night, then. You should go on back to bed and sleep for a few more hours." There's a weird note in Dad's voice, almost like pity, and it makes you feel funny in the pit of your stomach, but you nod to him, scoop your uneaten cereal into the garbage, and head in the direction of the stairs.

You stop just outside the kitchen door, hoping to hear if your parents are going to talk about this, but all you hear is them scraping out their own bowls, and Dad wishing Mom goodbye as he heads to work.

Back in your room, you begin to set up a plan. First things first: protection. If you're not going to tell your parents about the ghost, then you're just going to have to make sure you protect them yourself. You figure you can sneak out and buy sardines at the store this afternoon, and then you can set sardine lines at the doors of your and your parents' bedrooms after they go to bed. You'll just make sure you clear them before mom gets up in the morning.

Next: research. You need to find out where this ghost came from, why it's suddenly in your house, and how to get rid of it. Your best bet, you think, is the very person who taught you about all these things: Aunt Lita. You pull out your cell phone and dial her number. It rings a few times before she picks up.

"…Yesss? Who is it?"

"Hey Aunt Lita. It's me. I've got a problem."

"Oh, hello, dear! How are you? It's so good to hear from you. It's been such a long time!"

"Yes, Aunt Lita. It has, but you know with Mom and Dad…"

"Yes, yes, dear, I understand. Now what is this problem you're having?"

"Well… it's a ghost problem, actually. I'm pretty sure."

You're expecting her to be excited by this idea, jumping in to tell you how ready she is to help. Instead, all you hear is the sound of her breathing.

"…Aunt Lita?" you ask.

There's a funny shuffling sound, and then, "Just a second dear," and then more shuffling – and was that a man talking in the background? – And then Aunt Lita's voice again, but not into the phone, and then more shuffling and then she's back, talking into the phone.

"A ghost problem, you say?"

"Yeah, Aunt Lita. See, last night, I noticed the nightlight in my room was flickering, like you said they do when there's a ghost around, and mom had just finally convinced me to stop putting sardines around my bed so I ran downstairs to get some from the pantry, and I saw it. I saw the ghost, just a quick flash, because I was hurrying to get to the pantry, but it looked like a little girl, dressed all in white, and I was hoping that you could, you know, tell me where ghosts come from and how to get rid of it."

"I see dear." There's a pause, as she seems to be thinking. "You see dear, well… make no mistake, I'd _love_ to help you out with your problem, but there's a bit of a… _problem_… on my end, you see."

"A problem, Aunt Lita? Is everything alright?"

"What? Oh, yes, dear. Everything's fine, everything's fine, it's just… well. I'm… being _detained_ at the moment, and I don't really have access to my books."

"Detained, Aunt Lita? Like, by the police? But what would the police want with-"

"Oh no, dear! Not by the police, goodness no. I'm… I'm at St. Cloud's Psychiatric Hospital. Just for a little while, is all, while they sort some things out. I'm sure I'll be back and available to help you out in just a few days, but for now, I can't, you see." Your heart sinks. "But… if you wanted to. There's an old key I keep hidden about the place. You could pop over to my house and poke through my books yourself."

"Sure, Aunt Lita. Thanks!"

"Oh my pleasure, dear. My pleasure. I am sorry I can't help you out any more."

"That's okay. I'll figure it out. And I hope you can get things sorted out with the doctors quickly."

"Oh thank you dear. I'll talk to you later."

You hang up the phone and consider. You can definitely get yourself to Aunt Lita's house – it's only a ten minute walk away. But you're not entirely sure you'll have time for both the sardines trip _and _to make it to Aunt Lita's house without your parents noticing you're gone. Aunt Lita might have a few cans in her pantry you could take if you went there to research, but there's no guarantee you'll be able to sneak out and get more for tomorrow night…

_What will you do? Will you:_

_Go to the grocery store first, so you're sure you can be safe in the house for the next several nights, though you won't know what else to do about the ghost?_

_Or_

_Go to Aunt Lita's first, to get all the information you need about how to get rid of the ghost, and hope Aunt Lita has some sardines you can use?_

While you're still considering this, there's a soft knock on your door, giving you just enough time to throw yourself down on your pillow before your mom creeps into the room. You even your breathing, and wait, as she tip toes up to the head of your bed. She pauses, and you feel her lay her hand on your forehead, like she's checking for a fever. Then there's a rustle of paper, and she slips back out. You hear her footsteps down the stairs, then the jangle of keys, and the front door thumping shut behind her.

You spring out of bed, and see a note on your bedside table.

_Gone for lunch with Jen and Pat. Call if you need anything. _

_Be back soon, _

_ Mom_

Perfect! She's gone out with her friends! That means you can leave without her noticing! You grab your boots and your coat and run out the door letting it bang shut behind you. The December air is bitterly cold on your nose and ungloved hands, but you don't want to waste any time going back for gloves, so you stuff your hands deep into your pockets instead, and step into the street.

Suddenly, there's a squeal of tires, and you find yourself staring at the reflective windshield of a strikingly black, blindingly shiny, classic car.

"Dean!"

Two car doors squeak open and bang shut simultaneously. "I didn't hit her, Sam. And I swear, she just stepped right into the street, like I wasn't even there!" Suddenly someone's huge hands are grabbing you by the arms and dragging you to the sidewalk.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" You're still a little bit in shock that you almost got hit by a car (what are you _five?_ What kind of 18 year old forgets to look both ways?), so you don't realize right away that the voice is talking to you.

"What? Oh, yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. You didn't hit me." You pull away from him, thinking about how little time you have before mom gets back, and find yourself looking up at probably the tallest guy on the face of the earth. And standing next to him, the second tallest guy on the face of the earth.

"Good, good. Glad to hear it. Though it doesn't teach this bozo much of a lesson to get away Scott free." The taller guy whaps the shorter guy on the arm.

"Dude, I'm telling you! That wasn't my fault! You saw her, she just stepped right out in front of me!" the shorter guy protests.

"It's true," you interrupt them. "I wasn't paying attention, sorry."

"There, see, Sam? Wasn't my fault."

"Sam" turns back to you, and he's about to say something apologetic or sympathetic, and all you want to do is get away.

"You know what guys?" you interrupt him, "It was nice to meet your and all, and, uh, you know, but I really am fine, and I'm in a bit of hurry, and I've really got to go, so… bye!" You pull away from them without looking back, and start running towards town, hoping to make up for lost time.

Only question now is, where are you going to go?


	3. Chapter 3

**So after WAY too much delay, here's the next installment of CYOAWE! My only excuse is that it's been Christmas, and Christmas is wonderful and **_**crazy**_**. But that's not much of an excuse. I'll be sure to get the next one up quicker. **

**Anyway…**

**Drowning in the Flames says: Aunt Lita's house. Most totes def. Aunt Lita's house, and I'm probably gonna die, but I want to know who/what's haunting me :)**

**Leave your votes in the reviews! **

Choose Your Own Adventure: Winchester Edition

"_Dude, I'm telling you! That wasn't my fault! You saw her, she just stepped right out in front of me!" the shorter guy protests._

"_It's true," you interrupt them. "I wasn't paying attention, sorry." _

"_There, see, Sam? Wasn't my fault." _

"_Sam" turns back to you, and he's about to say something apologetic or sympathetic, and all you want to do is get away._

"_You know what guys?" you interrupt him, "It was nice to meet your and all, and, uh, you know, but I really am fine, and I'm in a bit of hurry, and I've really got to go, so… bye!" You pull away from them without looking back, and start running towards town, hoping to make up for lost time. _

_Only question now is, where are you going to go? _

You decide to head to Aunt Lita's house, first. You want to know what's haunting you, not cower in your room waiting for it to attack! Because you're jogging, it doesn't take you long at all to get to the house.

The front yard is littered with yard decorations. Hundreds – yes, probably hundreds – of little green and red garden gnomes and a good dozen pink flamingos (set in military formation in one corner of the yard) litter the front of the house; there are statues of sprites, fairies, little burrowing animals like moles, and… is that a Mickey Mouse? You ignore all of these and head for the one that matters – the giant sardine statute Aunt Lita told you is hidden near the house, somewhere in the tall, unkempt grasses.

You find the sardine and reach into its mouth, which is a good deal deeper than you had expected. All the way at the back, your fingers feel the cool of metal, and you pull out the keys, covered in slime and beetles. You're beginning to wonder if this was really worth it – there has to be something useful on the internet, right? – but you have the key now, and make you way up the rickety porch, turn the lock, and step inside.

The house is just as you remembered it, so you don't take a lot of time to look around. You duck under various hanging charms, and symbols, and animal feet, step over a whole mess of books and papers scattered across the floor, and make your way to her back room, where she kept all her most important books. You're hoping the books you need aren't somewhere else in the house, as that will take a long time to track down.

While the rest of her house might suggest otherwise, Aunt Lita was remarkably organized with her books, everything organized by subject and then alphabetized. You move quickly to the section entitled "Ghosts/Hauntings" and pull of all the books you can hold, then you clear yourself a space on the table, and sit down to read.

"_Ah! My House Has A Ghost! And other stories._" You read the first title aloud to dispel some of the creepiness from how completely silent the house is with only you in it. You put that book aside.

"_Practical Tips from a Life Long Psychic_, by Pamela Barnes." Aunt Lita has smacked a bright orange sticky note reading QUACK in big letters across the front of this book, so you toss that book with the other one. Next is "_Spirits of the Undead – Learning to Cope with the Presence of a Spirit in Your Home_. That could be useful." You open the book to the table of contents and scan down until you see _Chapter 8: 10 Must-Haves for Anyone Living with a Ghost_. Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, you start to take notes.

**Sardines. Though it seems strange, these fish scare ghosts to death! Ha. Ha. Use them for protection, as sardines will not actually get rid of any ghost in your house, only keep it at bay. **

**Music. If you can, find out what era your ghostly inhabitant is from, and play music from that era as loudly as possible. This will please your ghost, and has been known to keep the ghost from causing harm.**

**Make a Ghost-Catcher. Like dream catchers, ghost catchers are like spider webs for ghosts, trapping ghosts in their nets and keeping them there until you can dispel them. To make, simply soak string in pickle juice, and string it out across a doorway like a spider web. The ghost will try to pass through the ghost-catcher, but will get caught. Ha ha! Suck it ghostie! **

You glance up, suddenly aware that the room isn't as silent as it had been. There's a funny scraping sound coming from near the door, and the chandelier across the room is shaking. Scratch that, all of the hanging decorations around the house are shaking, as is your Aunt's China collection in the hutch, and the books on the bookshelf. You stand up in growing alarm. Could your ghost have followed you? You have no time to think, though, as you're suddenly being pelted with every movable object in the house. Books, crystals from the chandelier, the TV remote, pens, rabbit feet, pencils – they're all suddenly flying at your head. You scream, and scrabble to collect your books, bolt toward the door, covering your head with your arms as best you can, doors are banging open and shut all around the house, and your hand gets crushed in one as you're trying to run through it. You scream again, this time with pain, and then there's a hand at your arm, and a deep voice behind you, and you're being dragged away from the door, then through it and out of the house.

"Dang it Sammy! Give a guy some warning next time, before you just bolt off like that." You're still panicking a little from that what-the-heck-even-was-that when the name catches on your radar and you glance up to find the same tall stranger from earlier standing next to you, and the other shorter tall stranger coming towards you from the house with a sawed-off shotgun in hand and you should probably run, but all you can do is gape.

"Are you guys _**following **_me?"

"What? No!" Dean erupts, and he sounds angry, and you back away some more from the frighteningly strong men with a gun. Sam, though, crouches down to your level, and you notice his eyes have become very soft and gentle.

"We're not following you, I swear. We were just driving by, and noticed you were having some trouble with your house, so we stopped to help. We had no idea it was you in there." He smiles a little, encouragingly, and you find yourself smiling back.

"It's not my house," you explain. "It's my aunt's house. She's away right now and I needed to get something from her house, when everything just started going crazy!"

"These sorts of things ever happened before?" Dean asks. He's lowered the shotgun, and look a lot less angry now, and honestly, despite the fact that he's probably twice your age, you find yourself flushing at how hot he is. You shake your head.

"Not that I know of." Sam and Dean exchange a look between them, that you can't really decipher, then Sam's asking you where you live.

"Just up the street. I was walking here when you guys almost ran me over." You glance up to Dean, and smirk to seem him looking disgruntled.

"I did not almost-"

"How about if we take you home?" Sam interrupts Dean's protestations, and what was that your mother always said? Never get in cars with strange men? You can't seem to remember anymore, because you're nodding, and dang if Sam isn't ridiculously hot, too, and you're climbing in the back seat, and stacking the books next to you, and Dean's pulling the car away from the curb.

Sam glances back at you over the bench seat, like he's checking you're okay, then he does a double take. "What are you those books you've got? Something from your aunt's house?"

"Oh, uh… yeah. Just, you know, some research stuff I'm reading. For… for school."

"You're reading _Paranormal: Everything You Need to Know about Ghosts _for school?" And crap, couldn't you have come up with a better excuse? But you're stuck now, and you nod emphatically, not wanting these two incredibly cute guys to think you're as nuts as your father thinks you are.

"You know-" Sam glances at Dean, who's glancing back at him, like he's trying to gauge the whole situation just from the look on Sam's face while telling Sam he trusts him, "my brother and I. We've got a little experience with ghosts and stuff." Dean snorts like he thinks that's funny. "If you're, you know, having a problem with a ghost, we'd be happy to help you out."

For a minute, you're going to refuse, because, come on. You run into two guys who just so happen to be right there when you're aunt's house is going crazy, and who just so happen to know about ghosts, when you just so happen to have a ghost problem? But instead you find yourself telling them about the whole thing – about how you saw a ghost in your house last night, and you're parents think you're nuts, ("Oh, pull over. This is my house here.") and then you went to your aunt's house and everything started going crazy there, and you're trying to get rid of the ghost by building a ghost catcher, if your mom has any pickle juice.

"Wait you're going to what now?" Dean's grinning and confused, and Sam looks like he's about to sneeze.

"I'm going to build a ghost catcher. I wanted to grab some sardines from my aunt's house, since we're out, but things started going crazy before I had a chance-"

I trail off because Dean's outright laughing hysterically, and Sam's smacking him, while looking like he's trying not to laugh himself.

"What?"

"A ghost catcher with pickle juice?" Dean wheezes out. "And what in the heck are you gonna use sardines for against a ghost? Invite it to tea?" It's lucky we've pulled to a stop in front of my house, because Dean's so far gone laughing at me, he's bent over the steering wheel.

"Shut up, Dean." Sam says sternly, but honestly, it's clearly taking him a lot of effort to keep a straight face.

"What's so funny?!" I demand. Dean just shakes his head, a Sam reaches over the back seat to grab my books. He flips through them, and his smirk grows more pronounced, but he doesn't look like he's about to crack up when he turns back to me and explains.

"These books are crap. I don't know where your aunt got them, but I've been hunting ghosts for a long time now, and none of this stuff is true. Sardines? Ghost catchers? Won't stop a ghost for anything. And this 'ghost exorcism' here? I can tell you it's in no language I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot of languages. It's not gonna work." Dean's grabbed one of the books, and is flipping through it, chuckling.

"Well what do you suggest?" I burst out, sounding angry to cover up how embarrassed I feel.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Dean starts to apologize, while still laughing. Sam just gives him a withering glare and then says.

"Salt for one thing. Why don't you let us help you? Dean and I can stay here tonight, hopefully get a look at the ghost, do some research, and get rid of it for you. Should be quick and easy."

You're still mad at them for embarrassing you, but you nod and lead the way up to your house. As you open the door to let them in, though, you hear your parents' voices inside – both of them – and realize you've made a huge mistake. You're parents know you left. And now, they're coming down the hall, seeing you letting two _very _large _very _cute 30-something year old men in the house. You pale a little at their wide-eyed and angry expressions and start to fumble for a story.

_What will you tell them?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Drowning in the Flames says: Well, what CAN I say about two very large very cute 30-something year-old men into my house? (And how have I not fainted yet from all the cute?) I think I'll tell my parents that these guys are my friend's uncles, and I'm helping them plan her last-minute surprise party, which is tomorrow. It's probably going to take a while... also, they need lots of salt for a special treat they're making, so where do we keep that? :)**

**Leave your votes (and other comments) in the reviews! **

Choose Your Own Adventure – Winchester Edition

"_Well what do you suggest?" You burst out, sounding angry to cover up how embarrassed you feel. _

"_Salt for one thing," Sam says. "Why don't you let us help you? Dean and I can stay here tonight, hopefully get a look at the ghost, do some research, and get rid of it for you. Should be quick and easy." _

_You're still mad at them for embarrassing you, but you nod and lead the way up to your house. As you open the door to let them in, though, you hear your parents' voices inside – both of them – and realize you've made a huge mistake. You're parents know you left. And now, they're coming down the hall, seeing you letting two very large, very cute 30-something year old men in the house. You pale a little at their wide-eyed and angry expressions and start to fumble for a story._

"Uh… HEY Mom!" You slap on a giant, innocent grin. "Hey Dad! This is Sam and Dean, they're my friend Emma's uncles in town for her birthday. They're planning a surprise party for her, and they were hoping they could stay here. Just for a couple nights, until the party."

Sam steps past you, then, smiling awkwardly, but apparently following your lead, and sticks out a hand to your father. "Hello, Sir. I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean." You blink, hearing his voice has slipped into this charming sort of a Texan drawl, making his bulk seem more quaint and less intimidating. "We really appreciate your hospitality while we plan this surprise. We used to be real close to Emma before we had to move away, and we're really looking forward to surprising her."

You can see it in your mother's eyes, him sliding into her heart. How he knew your mother had a soft spot for Texas boys, you're not sure, but he did. And while your father looks like he's gearing up a polite way to refuse, your mother's got a look in her eye that says she's already planning ways to mother-hen these boys for the next _month_.

"Of course, boys. Of course. We'd love to have you stay with us!" You struggle not to smirk at the disgruntled look on your father's face. "Come on back to the kitchen, I was just fixing up dinner."

That your mother manages to make enough food to feed Sam and Dean as quickly as she does is just another sign of the power a Texan accent has over her.

Everyone moves into the living room after dinner, and you're hoping you'll be left alone with Sam and Dean, so you can discuss ghost-busting plans. Instead your father sends you off to bed.

"But, Dad. I want to stay up and help Dean and Sam plan Emma's party." You wince inside to hear how whiny your voice is, but darn it, you have a ghost to exterminate!

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to do that tomorrow, but I'd honestly like to avoid a repeat of last night." He gives you a significant look, and you know better than to argue. You give Sam and Dean a desperate look, hoping they'll back you up, instead they're engaging your mother in conversation about their lives growing up in Austin and completely ignoring your predicament. With a huff, you climb the stairs and sit on your bed, resigned to waiting until your parents go to bed before you can go back downstairs.

You jolt awake and the room is nearly pitch black. With a gasp, you glance at the clock – 12:30 – and fling yourself from your bed. You slow at the top of the stairs, so you don't wake your parents, and hear Sam and Dean whispering in the living room.

"Well, they at least got this right. 'Before you try to get rid of your ghost, make sure you remove any projectiles the ghost might use. Knives, books, plates – anything that can be moved will be moved if you make a ghost angry.'" Dean's saying.

"I can't believe you're still reading those books."

"I can't believe you're _not_. I woulda thought a Geek Boy like yourself couldn't wait to get his hands on such _rare_ intel?" Sam just snorts in response to that and the room falls silent again.

"Too bad about there not being any strange deaths on the premises, though I can't say I'm surprised. A ghost from the house wouldn't have been able to cause so much trouble at the aunt's." Dean says.

"You think it's attached to the girl?"

"Hey guys." You step into the living room.

"Hey," Sam says. "What are you doing up?"

"I wanted to help you guys find the ghost, of course! I can't believe you guys didn't back me up with my dad."

"Look," Dean breaks in, "I know you're all exciting about having found a real ghost, after all that crap your aunt's been feeding you, but it really is much better – much _safer _– if you stay out of it now. Sam and I will handle the ghost. You just go on back upstairs and go to bed. Okay?" His smile is patronizing, and it turns your blood a little. You don't answer, just stomp over to the couch and drop down on it, glaring at him.

"I'll remind you, _Dean_, that I found this ghost, and I am not going to stand by and let you two get rid of it without me. I'm not scared!"

"It's not about being scared-" Sam tries, but you've made up your mind.

"If you don't let me help, I'll tell my parents on you, you'll be out of the house before you can blink."

Sam and Dean exchange a look. Dean rolls his eyes, and throws up his hands, and Sam sighs. "Fine. You can help." Sam says.

"But if either one of us tells you to do something _you do it_." Dean spins back around and stares you straight in the eye. "We clear?"

"Clear." You scooch to sit up a little straighter, and lean forwards eagerly. "So where do we start?"

You wake up the next morning in your bed to the smell of eggs and the sounds of breakfast downstairs. Drat! You must've fallen asleep last night! You hope nothing happened, as you slip into your clothes, and hurry downstairs.

Sam and Dean are sitting at the table, grinning, and eating, and drawling to your mother (your father is frowning grumpily into his newspaper) about their plans for Emma's party. You let out a relieved breath. If they're still here, then they must not have chased off the ghost last night without you.

You're just dragging out a chair, when a knock sounds at the door.

"Could you get the door for me, sweetie?" Mom asks, turning to you. With a grunt suitable only to mornings, you shove the chair back in and head to the door.

"Hi can I help— Aunt Lita?"

"Yes, hello dear! It's so good to see you, still whole and unharmed! I was worried after our last call! Have you made it over to my house yet to collect my books? I haven't had a chance to go back to my house, I just got out of the hospital, you see."

"Um… yes. I got your… I got your books… I thought you said you were going to be in the hospital for few days."

"Yes, well. My visit was cut short, just a bit. Can I come in? We really need to get on about banishing this ghost of yours?"

She's pushing her way in, but suddenly, you're not sure you want her to meet your new ghost-fighting friends, especially with how they reacted to her books. Then again, you have known Aunt Lita and have trusted her knowledge of the Supernatural a whole lot longer than you've known Sam and Dean. You're not really sure who to trust. Maybe it would be good to have Aunt Lita helping out.

"I, um… Aunt Lita, I…"

_What will you do? Will you:_

_Feed Aunt Lita some story to keep her from coming inside and meeting Sam and Dean?_

_Or_

_Welcome her inside and insist to Sam and Dean that she help get rid of the ghost?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to all you who sent me such nice reviews on the last one! It makes me happy that you guys are enjoying this so much! ;)**

**This time y'all managed to get your reviews and choices to me before Drowning in the Flames did. I passed along your votes (unanimously for Aunt Lita to stick around) and she responded: ****I guess I'll agree with them. I'd like to see her and the boys interact, and maybe she does have something useful to us. Who knows? **

**Leave your votes (and comments) in the reviews!**

"_Could you get the door for me, sweetie?" Mom asks, turning to you. With a grunt suitable only to mornings, you shove the chair back in and head to the door. _

"_Hi can I help— Aunt Lita?"_

"_Yes, hello dear! It's so good to see you, still whole and unharmed! I was worried after our last call! Have you made it over to my house yet to collect my books? I haven't had a chance to go back to my house, I just got out of the hospital, you see."_

"_Um… yes. I got your… I got your books… I thought you said you were going to be in the hospital for few days."_

"_Yes, well. My visit was cut short, just a bit. Can I come in? We really need to get on about banishing this ghost of yours?" _

_She's pushing her way in, but suddenly, you're not sure you want her to meet your new ghost-fighting friends, especially with how they reacted to her books. Then again, you have known Aunt Lita and have trusted her knowledge of the Supernatural a whole lot longer than you've known Sam and Dean. You're not really sure who to trust. Maybe it would be good to have Aunt Lita helping out._

"_I um… Aunt Lita, I…" _She pauses, looking at you a little perplexed you're not moving out of the way, and you catch yourself. Screw Sam and Dean. They haven't actually done anything helpful so far. Maybe Aunt Lita really does know what she's talking about. If two heads are better than one, three must be better than two, right?

"Lita?!" You snap out of your thoughts, realizing that while you've been thinking, Aunt Lita's pushed her way past you and is in the kitchen being… um… _welcomed_ by your father. You run down the hall.

"What the heck are you-"

"It's good to see you again, too, brother of mine." Aunt Lita bristles before he can finish.

"_You're_ Aunt Lita?" That was Dean's voice. You reach the kitchen to see him leaning back in his chair, legs stretching out in front of him, a smirk on his face. It doesn't last long before Sam elbows him in his unguarded stomach with a pinched, reprimanding glare.

"Yes I am!" Aunt Lita looks further affronted. This really is not going very well. "Who are _you_?"

"I'm Sam Winchester, ma'am." Sam steps in. "_That's _my brother, Dean. You can just ignore him. He can be a bit of a jerk before the coffee kicks in." He rolls his eyes and grins in a perfect, little-brother sort of a way, and he's a natural born peacemaker, cause Aunt Lita's calming down, and Dean looks indignant but blessedly silent, and the pause lets you step in.

"Aunt Lita, Sam and Dean are here while they plan my friend Emma's birthday party. Maybe you could give them some tips?" You give Sam and Aunt Lita significant _let's get out of here _looks, and they both seem to get it, because Sam's agreeing with you, and Aunt Lita's being civil and everyone (including Dean) is being herded into the hallway and outside before your parents have a chance to object.

You take a deep breath as the door shuts behind you, and study your new team, not really sure where to go from here. Is it possible to hunt a ghost in the day?

"Dean if you say a word," Sam suddenly threatens, and you look up to see Dean's mouth click shut and he's looking put-upon again.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"You really are a dreadful young man, aren't you?" says Aunt Lita.

"I think we should start with some more formal introductions, maybe." You start, before things can get out of control again. (What _were _you thinking letter Aunt Lita in like that?) "Sam, Dean, this is my Aunt Lita. _Yes_, _the _Aunt Lita, the Aunt-Lita-who-gave-me-_those_-books and if you say a word against her Dean Winchester I will slap you myself. She just so happens to have taught me more about the supernatural than you, and to have been here a good deal longer than you have, so if you don't want to work with her, you can just leave."

(That put-out, _really?_, look is going to be permanently etched on Dean's face.)

"Now, Aunt Lita. These are Sam and Dean. They're ghost hunters, who travel around helping people with problems like mine."

"Oh really? Well, pleased to meet you, Sam." Aunt Lita stretches out her hand to Sam, smiling. She scowls at Dean, who shrugs his jacket higher around his ears and huffs lightly.

"Well guys? Shall we get to work? Were you able to figure anything out last night?"

"The ghost didn't show up last night, so we'd like to have another shot at watching for it tonight," Sam says. "Aunt Lita, do you have any ghosts or anything supernatural living in your house that you're aware of? Ever seen any flickering lights or weird electrical shortages, or had any odd smells?"

"No, not that I've ever noticed. Why?"

"Something attacked your niece when she was in your house yesterday. We were wondering if the two were connected." Dean says. Aunt Lita gives him a withering look and returns her gaze to Sam.

"Do you think the two attacks might be connected? That the ghost has latched on to her spectral energy and is feeding off her aura to sustain its existence?" Sam blinks at her like he's not sure what she's talking about.

"Um… something like that." He says, slowly. "We were actually thinking somewhere on the line of cursed object."

Aunt Lita snorts. "A _cursed object? _You're kidding me, right? Everybody knows those done exist."

"Look, _Aunt Lita_, I don't know where you learned what you think you know but you don't know crap. Sam and I-"

"-Are very interested in learning from your experience, and in sharing what we know." Sam smoothly cuts in, but he kicks Dean in the knee hard enough to make Dean grunt. "Dean and I have run into lots of cursed objects over the years. Particularly we were thinking of a spirit attached to an object."

Aunt Lita nods. "Well, tell me what your theory is, then…" Dean opens his mouth. "… Sam."

Sam turns to you. "Your mom mentioned there wasn't any history of violent deaths or anything in the house itself. When exactly did you start noticing odd things happening?"

"I told you, I saw the ghost two nights ago."

"Right, but did you notice anything odd before that? You know, flickering lights, cold spots, stuff like that?"

"Well, no. But the night I saw the ghost was the first night in a long time I didn't sleep with sardines around my bed," you say.

"So, that's a no, then." Dean says. "Sardines wouldn't have had any effect on a ghost or cursed object."

"Wait, Dean." Sam interrupts. "What if it did?"

Dean looks at him like he's crazy. "Okay, sure, Sammy. Why don't we all just join the crazy train?"

"No, Dean, seriously. Sardines are high in salt content, right? So it's possible that they do have some effect on a ghost. Nothing as powerful as rock salt, but maybe enough to keep a ghost from manifesting."

"Ha! See? I told you, young man. You scoffed, but I was _right!_" Aunt Lita waves her finger in Dean's nose. Sam pushes them apart to talk to you.

"Have you gotten anything new recently? I mean, something old, like from a thrift shop, or a hand-me-down, or something? Maybe as a gift?"

"No… I don't think-"

"Yes you did, dear!" says Aunt Lita. "Remember? That bracelet I mailed you for your birthday last week? That used to belong to your great grandmother."

Dean's already pulling open the front door, Sam following. "Take us to the bracelet!"

You all rush into the house, passed your open-mouthed mother, you leading the way to your bed room, Aunt Lita trailing behind.

"Here it is!" You pull out a slender gold bracelet and wave it triumphantly. At that moment, the ghost appears. She throws you across the room, and you drop the bracelet in surprise. "Mine!" she hisses. She has you pinned to the wall. Dean lunges forward at the same time as Sam, but they're also thrown to the wall and pinned there.

At that moment, Aunt Lita huffs up to the doorway. She pales when she sees the ghost. "They're real." You hear her whisper, over Sam and Dean's grunts as they try to pull themselves off the wall. Dean turns his head to look at her.

"Seriously? Yes, their real! What do you mean 'they're real?'! They locked you up in the Looney Bin because you believed in ghosts, and now you see one and that's all you have to say? They're real? GRAB THE FREAKING BRACELET!"

That brings Aunt Lita to her senses, she leaps forward and grabs up the bracelet. "What do I do with it?"

"Put salt and lighter fluid on it – in the bag – and burn it!" Sam calls. Only then do you realize, he'd brought his duffle bag upstairs with him. Aunt Lita turns and starts rooting through the bag, ripping out lighter fluid and a can of salt. She sprinkles them on, as the ghost turns to face her, dropping all three of you, as it turns its attention to Aunt Lita.

"Mine." It growls, and a child – even a ghost child – really shouldn't be able to sound like that. It reaches out to throw Aunt Lita, when Dean's suddenly next to her with a lighter flickering in his fist.

"Maybe next time, sweetheart." He drops the lighter onto the gas and salt doused bracelet and the ghost flares up and disappears.

"What is going _on _up here?" Your mother choses that moment to burst into the room. And it happens. You look at the bracelet, flaming on the carpet, then at Dean and Sam, who look equal parts relieved and victorious, and then to Aunt Lita, whose grey hair is flared every which way. And you sink to your knees and start laughing. Cracked up, hysterical laughing. You feel your mother's hand on your shoulder, and hear your father's low voice, and Sam sounds like he's explaining something, and you try to pull it together. They just might be willing to believe you this time – with all these witnesses, they just might believe! You're still gasping with laugher and relief, as you stand up.

_And here it is, guys. One last choice. What are you going to tell your parents? You lied to them last time, do you think they'll believe you this time?_

_Will you:_

_Tell your parents the truth about what happened, and hope Sam and Dean can back you up?_

_Or_

_Make up another story and hope what Sam's said already doesn't hurt your credibility?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright folks, here it is: last one! I hope you've enjoyed reading them as much as I have enjoyed writing them ;)**

**Drowning in the Flames says: ****I suppose I'll make up another story. No way they'd believe the truth. Agh, last one!**

_The ghost reaches out to throw Aunt Lita, when Dean's suddenly next to her with a lighter flickering in his fist. _

"_Maybe next time, sweetheart." He drops the lighter onto the gas and salt doused bracelet and the ghost flares up and disappears. _

"_What is going on up here?" Your mother choses that moment to burst into the room. And it happens. You look at the bracelet, flaming on the carpet, then at Dean and Sam, who look equal parts relieved and victorious, and then to Aunt Lita, whose grey hair is flared every which way. And you sink to your knees and start laughing. Cracked up, hysterical laughing. You feel your mother's hand on your shoulder, and hear your father's low voice, and Sam sounds like he's explaining something, and you try to pull it together. They just might be willing to believe you this time – with all these witnesses, they just might believe! You're still gasping with laugher and relief, as you stand up._

Dad has Aunt Lita by the arm, and is pulling her towards the door.

"No, Dale, no! You have to listen to me! They're real! They're real! It was here, and everyone saw it! Ask, your daughter. Ask Sam. Ask Dean! They saw it. _I'm not crazy._" Dad pauses and looks at you, and your stomach flips because he's about to ask you, and what you say determines what happens to Aunt Lita, and you. You're trying to read his eyes, see if he'll believe.

"Did you see a ghost?" he asks sternly. And you know. No way he's going to believe you. You tell him you saw a ghost and you'll end up sharing a cell with Aunt Lita at St. Cloud's, not getting her out of one. But if you deny it, Aunt Lita gets stuck back in the psych ward and is probably never coming back. And there really was a ghost…

"No, sir." To your surprise, it's Dean who steps in. "There wasn't a ghost. Aunt _Lita_ here just cracked and went bonkers, raving about a ghost or some whack. That's when she burned the bracelet. Your daughter, here, was just as stunned as Sam and I."

"Is this true?" Dad asks you.

"Yes." You hate yourself for the betrayal, but maintain the lie. "There wasn't a ghost. I guess it was too early for Aunt Lita to get out of the psych hospital or something." Aunt Lita's staring at you, mouth gaping, and you can't bear to look at her.

"Come on, Lita. Let's go." Dad pulls Lita away, surprisingly gently. Everyone is silent, as you hear the front door click, and the car start outside.

"Well…" your mom stutters to life. She's wiping her hands on her jeans nervously. "I'm so sorry about that, boys. It's really not usually anywhere near so exciting around here. I-why, um. Anyone want some cake?" Mom is already heading out of the room, ignoring the now soaking pile of singed carpet.

"Yes, ma'am. That sounds really wonderful." Sam follows her downstairs, and you hear him brushing off her apologies, coaxing her to laugh with stories about his own crazy aunt. The way Dean smirks makes you think they're probably lies.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I just… feel bad about Aunt Lita. She's really not crazy."

"Aw… I wouldn't worry about her too much." He bends down and scoops up his canvas duffle. "Something tells me her Elwood Dowd days won't last too much longer."

And with that, he steps behind you, and pushes you towards the stairs. "Now lead the way to the kitchen and some more of your mom's awesome cake. Sammy! You better not have eaten all that cake without me!"

...

_That night. _

"Quit fidgeting, for crying out loud!"

"What if they get caught? What are we gonna do then? We can't get both of them out!"

"Sammy's not gonna let them get caught. Just _chill_."

You glare at him, but shove your hands under your legs, and press yourself firmly into the leather seat to keep yourself still.

Your knee starts to bounce.

"Friggin' _stop it! _Seriously, or I'll tie you up and toss you in the trunk!"

"There they are!" You quit your bouncing, and press your face against the glass, which fogs from your breath. Dean reaches forward and turns the key in the ignition, as Sam tugs open the door and Aunt Lita slides in. She's still dressed in a white bathrobe and slippers, but she's grinning like a Cheshire cat. Sam slides into the back seat beside her and Dean rolls the car away from the curb.

"Oh that was _thrilling _boys! Really! This old maid hasn't had that much fun in _years!_"

"Hush, or you're gonna get us caught being so loud." Dean says grumpily, but he's reaching forward and cranking up the radio, blaring Free Bird through the speakers, squealing the brakes as he swings onto the highway.

You're roaring down the highway (and really appreciating the way the seats rumble beneath you), before anyone speaks again. "You good to get back in the house?" Dean asks, turning the music down a little, as you off into your neighborhood.

"Should be. The rope is still hanging from my window, and I can use the lattice for my feet."

Dean nods.

"Where will you go, Aunt Lita?" You ask as Dean pulls the car up a block from your house.

"Oh, I'm not really sure, dear. Certainly can't go back to the house, that's for sure. First place they're likely to come looking for me. Sam here, though, has invited me to road trip with him and Dean hunting monsters with them and that just sounds _thrilling_-"

Sam and Dean's respective "He _what?!_" and "I didn't Dean, _I swear!_" Sound simultaneously after this announcement, and you grin as Dean glares at his brother.

"I said _maybe _we could drive her to wherever she decides to go. _That's it_."

"Sam, this is the finest freaking piece of American-made machinery this side of James Dean and I will _not _provide a freaking _taxi service _to everyone and their _crazy aunts!_"

"I am _not _crazy!"

"Ow! Don't hit me you crazy bi— Ow! _**Sam!**_"

"Keep your foul mouth to yourself, young man!"

Laughing, you pop open your door and start to get out. "Well, I guess I'd better leave you guys to it. Bye, Aunt Lita. Bye boys." You wave, and shut the door.

"Wait, wait." Dean's climbing out of the car after you, jogging over. "Here." He hands you a small business-card-like piece of paper, with a number written on it. "If you ever need anything – particularly _ghost _kinds of things, but whatever – just give us a call. We're never more than a car ride away." His eyes look surprisingly deep and caring a look his cocky attitude and sharp wit never would have betrayed and you smile up at him. "I think I can handle a ghost, Dean." You smirk, as he opens his mouth to protest. "Sardine circles and ghost catchers." You grin, as he breaks off to a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." He cuffs you lightly on the shoulder. "See you later, kid."

You climb up on the curb, as he slides back into the car and pulls away from the curve. Sam turns back to wave, and you wave back, grinning, as they go.


End file.
